


Silent Mission

by young_monster



Category: Hollywood Undead (Band)
Genre: Kinda, Light Angst, War AU, mostly happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 15:49:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14192430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/young_monster/pseuds/young_monster
Summary: HiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiSo yes, this isn't a new chapter on I'm breaking, I feel it, HOWEVER, I got super hella inspired by a tumblr post from the lovely Alias about a War AU with the HU guys. I also wanted to gift Alias a nice little fic to lift their spirits up a little, so here's to you, Alias! Thanks for being an amazing person that the HU fandom is lucky to have!Please enjoy!





	Silent Mission

**Author's Note:**

  * For [A_lee_us](https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_lee_us/gifts).



> Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii  
> So yes, this isn't a new chapter on I'm breaking, I feel it, HOWEVER, I got super hella inspired by a tumblr post from the lovely Alias about a War AU with the HU guys. I also wanted to gift Alias a nice little fic to lift their spirits up a little, so here's to you, Alias! Thanks for being an amazing person that the HU fandom is lucky to have!  
> Please enjoy!

“I don’t like this.” 

“I know, now shut the fuck up and pack your shit.” 

Jorel let out a low growl. He crossed his arms, and began tonguing the inside of his already-bitten cheeks. “Why?” 

“Why?” Jordon scoffed, and dragged his hands through his short, brown hair. “You’re really asking why?” 

“Yes. This is a huge risk, that could end in all of us dead.” 

“Or it could end with us saving a kid,” George stated as he walked into the room. His gear was already on, and his blue gask mask was hanging around his neck. “We have to do this, man.” 

Jorel shook his head, and picked up the flyer that had been occupying the center of his bed. The yellowed paper crinkled unnecessarily in his hands as he brandished the flyer in front of him. “This is sketchy! It could totally be a trap!” 

George snatched the paper out of his hands, crumpling it within his hands with a single, swift movement. “Or it could be a call for help. You really wanna run the risk of leaving a kid in the wasteland?”   
“No, but-”   
“No buts!” George shouted. His deep voice reverberated throughout the bare room, effectively shutting down all arguments. “Pack your shit, we leave in the morning.” He left the room, slamming the door behind him. 

Jorel held up his hand in front of Jordon’s face, who wore a shit-eating grin. “Say  one word, and I swear to God, I will smash every bottle of beer you’ve ever managed to save.” 

Jordon gasped, and brought his hands to his chest in mock-hurt. “You wouldn’t!” 

“I would, now get the hell out of my room. I pack better in silence.” Jorel turned his back on the other man; he wasn’t exactly lying - it was easier for him to organize his thoughts when he was alone - but right now, he wanted to just be able to pout by himself. 

He felt a couple pats on his shoulders, then listened to Jordon leave the room. Jorel’s shoulders deflated as he let out a long sigh. He knew he was being selfish, and childish, and a bit of a dick, but he also knew that a lot of sick fucks liked to use children as bait. 

But it was whatever; he and the guys would handle any threat that might come their way. They had to. 

~

 

“Do we really need to do all this?” Dylan asked, eyeing as Danny ran ahead to scout the area. “We’re out of the warzone.” 

Jorel paused his search for a potential high-up nesting spot, and nodded vigorously. “Just because we’re out of the warzone doesn’t mean shit. There’s still raiders, gunners, soldiers, and that doesn’t even start to include all the animals-”   
“We get it,” George interrupted, adjusting his shoulder straps with a grimace. He should be used to carrying heavy guns by now, but every time it was still a hassle for his shoulder. That’s what he got for never letting it properly heal. “Lots of shit that could kill us.” 

“Lots.” 

“But it’s better than leaving some poor kid to deal with all that. They could get swept up with some gang,” Jordon offered, checking his bag again for the millionth time. When they were on the road, he had a tendency to check his supplies every half hour or so, more so out of force of habit than paranoia. 

“Are we staying here for the night?” Dylan asked. 

“If Danny doesn’t find anything, then yeah.” Jorel resumed his search for a high-up place, tapping his fingers idly against the scope of his rifle. Why did they have to choose a job that required them to travel through very large plots of flat land that had a distinct lack of high-up places?

George groaned, and set his mini-gun down on the ground, pointing the multiple barrels into the soft dirt. He used his now-free hand to massage his right shoulder, closing his eyes as he worked. 

Jordon bit his lip as he looked at the taller man focus on his shoulder. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do better.”

George just chuckled, and shook his head. “You managed to save my life, so I think it’s worth not having a fully-working shoulder.” 

“Yet another time when things would’ve been better if we had stayed home,” Jorel said, pointing at George’s wounded shoulder. “That was a job that should’ve gone fine, but then raiders with fucking frags showed up!” 

“We remember what happened, thanks, but we also handled it, didn’t we?” Dylan pointed out. “And we managed to gain some great favor with one of the cities.” 

Jorel rolled his eyes, but gave up his argument. He knew when to stop, and now was the time to stop. “Alright.” 

“Spot’s clear!” Danny announced with a triumphant return. He had his bag slung over his shoulders, carelessly flaunting his weapon of choice - a baseball bat with what was almost too many nails sticking out of it - within his bandaged hands. 

“You should take it easy, man,” Jordon said. He began digging through his own bag, looking for anything that might be able to lightly dull minor pain. He usually just had things that would dull a person for days, reducing them to a shell of a human for hours. Most injuries sustained in the wasteland required such drugs. He missed the days of simple painkillers, like ibuprofen. 

Danny shrugged, and brought one of his bandaged hands up to card through his dirty, blonde hair. “I’m fine, man. You did a great job.” 

George clapped his hands together loudly, drawing everyone’s attention to himself. “Alright, since we’re clear, let’s set up camp.” 

~

 

Jorel sat further from the group, happy to be in his isolated little nest on what could probably be called a hill - it was a little flat, so he wasn’t too sure. All he knew was that he could easily eye the surroundings around his little, fucked up family. 

He had already been sitting there for close to an hour; he had helped the rest of the guys set up the fire and their typical security measures - landmines, and booby traps -  then he retired to his nest. Jorel only needed a few things for when he kept watch - his trusty rifle, his wonderful pair of binoculars, and this blanket that he’d designated his on-the-road blanket. 

The rest of the guys had sat close together around the fire, all of them staying warm near the tall flames. Danny and Jordon were shoving each other back and forth, while George and Dylan were cooking some sort of meat on the fire. Probably deer, from the kill they’d managed to score the day before. 

It was moments like these that Jorel liked to contemplate his life - he did it a lot, perhaps even too much, but what else is a person supposed to do when they’re on watch?

Jorel couldn’t help but still feel angry about taking this job. Again, he knew was being childish, because it was part of his fucking job to rescue civilians and bring them to either a settlement of a city, but still; a flyer for a child spotted down south, way out of the way of any warzone was very suspicious. It wouldn’t be the first time that children had been used as bait, and definitely wouldn’t be the last. Over time, Jorel and the guys had managed to scrounge up some very nice gear and weapons that a lot of people, both good and bad, would love to have.

Jorel couldn’t count how many times the guys had gotten close to death, only to be dragged back to the land of the living by Jordon and his medical training. Yet no matter how much danger they constantly put themselves in and still survived, every time they left the main camp, Jorel couldn’t help but prepare for the worst case scenario.

Jorels’ attention was caught by Danny’s blonde hair, which seemed to be able to capture the warm light from the fire. 

Jorel smiled to himself at the memories attached to the bleached color. It all started when Danny had managed to find a collapsed convenience store. Those were usually the best finds; they contained food, medical supplies, clothes, and even, if you were  _ really _ lucky, treats. Candies, toys, whatever. Fun things. 

Dylan and Danny had been on a supply run when in this particular collapsed store, Danny had found a preserved bottle of hair bleach; he had been so excited about that the two of them ran home without even scavenging for other supplies. 

They got home to the main camp, and immediately went and dyed Danny’s hair. Jorel had tried to shout at them about the health risks and shit - I mean, for fuck’s sake, that dye was just lying on the ground during the fucking war! - but they just ignored Jorel and locked themselves in the semi-functioning bathroom. 

Danny emerged some time later with a head full of blonde hair, smiling as if he were on top of the world. He still sometimes smiled like that, when he caught sight of his hair. Even months later, when the blonde was growing out and he really badly needed a haircut, he was still in love with his hair. 

Unbeknownst to Danny, the rest of the guys had made it their silent mission to keep a vigilant eye out for hair dye whenever they left the camp. 

Jorel then caught sight of the book George had in his hands - it was a part of  _ Paradise Lost _ . Jorel didn’t know how George could stand to read it; it was one of those epic poems, split into like ten other books. The one that they managed to salvage from a burned library was only the first two sections of the entire epic poem. George was the only one in the group who could bother to read it;  it was just too heavy for any of the others. Too complex to be a light reading, but George seemed to love it.

Unbeknownst to George, the rest of the guys had made it their silent mission to keep a vigilant eye out for the rest of it whenever they left the camp. 

Of course, Dylan then brought out his travel-stash of weed. He’d manage to come upon a small farm of it, when he and Danny had gone out on another supply run. The farm was abandoned, and Jorel knew how to properly grow, so they took it over. Dylan mainly just smoked on the road as a way to calm his nerves, while smoking back at the camp was to have fun. 

Unbeknownst to Dylan, the rest of the guys had made it their silent mission to keep a vigilant eye out for lighters and rolling paper whenever they left the camp.

Out of his supply bag, Jordon produced five bottles of beer. They were definitely not going to be cold, but it was beer, so the guys all took a bottle and cheered the night sky. Jordon had gotten the beer when he stumbled upon a half-collapsed, barely-ransacked brewery way down south, far from any warzone. He’s lucky he had taken George with him - together, they managed to lug back a very healthy amount of beer. 

Unbeknownst to Jordon, the rest of the guys had made it their silent mission to keep a vigilant eye out for any other types of beer whenever they left the camp. 

Jorel watched as Jordon took two bottles of beer, and began heading over to the hill where he was perched. With a groan and a smile, Jorel stood up and stretched. No matter how used to sitting still for hours he was, he was always shocked when his back would pop several times. 

“You don’t have to keep watch, man,” Jordon said as he grew near, holding out one of the bottles of beer.

Jorel took, nodding his head in appreciation as he uncapped it. He took a drink, and savored the taste of lukewarm beer. It was a beauty to behold, out here in the wasteland. “I know I don’t have too, but I wanna. I may have stopped whining, but I still don’t like this.” 

Jordon just shook his head, and turned to face the direction of the campfire, and the rest of the guys. “Why don’t you join us? Drink your beer, eat some deer, just be near?” 

Jorel gave him a deadpan look. “Nice rhymes, but I’m good.”   
“Come on, man, you can keep watch by the fire.” Jordon looped his arms around Jorel’s, and began dragging him, albeit unsuccessfully, towards the campfire. 

“Or I can keep watch here.” Jorel didn’t feel the need to keep reiterating how much he hated this particular job, so he didn’t. 

When he realized he wasn’t making any progress, Jordon let go of the watchmen’s arm, and stomped his foot into the dirt. “If you don’t move your ass over to camp, I will have Georgie come over here and throw you over his arms and take you there himself!” 

Unable to withstand the hilarious, petulant-child look Jordon wore, Jorel gave in. He grabbed his rifle and binoculars, and began heading towards the rest of the group. Jordon followed with a gleeful shout. 

Once they were both settled around the fire, George plopped a tin can full of sizzling deer in front of Jorel, as well as a canteen of water. “Eat up, while it’s hot.” 

“Why does Jay get served first?” Dylan whined, his half-smoked joint hanging from his lips. “I killed the damn thing.” 

George swatted his arm lightly, then handed Dylan his own can of deer. “There you go, ya big baby.” 

“Thanks, daddy.” Dylan cracked up at his own joke, almost dropping his joint into his food from laughing. 

George just rolled his eyes, and began serving the rest of the guys. They all chatted happily throughout dinner - though it was mainly Danny going on and on about this new city girl, Theresa, that he obviously had a crush on. Once everyone had eaten, they all helped clearing away the cans, and setting up the two tents they had. 

Before Jorel could start setting up to take the first watch with George, Danny had caught his arm. 

“Jay, wait a sec, I have a surprise for you. And the guys too, but mainly for you.” There was a certain glimmer in Danny’s eyes, one that made Jorel cautious as to what the surprise could be. 

Danny began rummaging through his bag, and produced a small, black bag, tied around the top. “Hold out your hands.” 

Jorel did as he was told, and held his hands with his palms towards the darkening sky. Danny placed the small bag in Jorel’s hands with a wide smile. “Open it.” 

Jorel did as he was told, and removed the tie. Inside was very colorful, small little objects, smelling of fruit. Jorel looked up the blonde man. “Candy?” 

Danny nodded furiously, almost bouncing in place. “You’re favorite, plus some stuff for the rest of us! Can you believe I found that?”

“It’s incredible,” Jorel agreed, a wide smile on his face as he pulled Danny in for a crushing hug. His heart warmed at the thought of Danny remembering what his favorite kind of candy was.

“Alright, tiger, Jesus.” Danny chuckled as they parted, making sure to pat Jorel’s pat a few times. “Pick out your favorites and then I’ll share with the rest of these idiots.”

Jorel laughed, then did as he was told, sorting through the candy and taking out the type that were his favorite, then handing the bag back to Danny. As he unwrapped a piece and ate it - barely able to withhold groaning from how damn tasty it was - he decided that this made up for the fact that they were still on a job that he detested. 

Little did Jorel know that the rest of the guys had made it their silent mission to keep  vigilant eye out for his favorite kind of candy whenever they left the camp.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed, please leave a comment or a kudos, they go a long way!


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